


Adequate

by SisterSunny



Series: Tundorch [1]
Category: Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types, Rockman | Mega Man Classic
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, The robots have mouths under their masks, Tundra is Russian, Tundra uses Russian nicknames, because fuck you I will have them kiss if it means kicking canon in its fucking balls, good to know that the first work in this relationship tag is pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterSunny/pseuds/SisterSunny
Summary: Thick — three of his fingers side by side at its widest — and slightly longer than his face: his memory core began rewriting his untold fantasies as it filled in the blank slate that used to be his bed partners with a familiar crimson and beige robot master.Adequate? Curses, Tundra thought.He might be in love.





	Adequate

**Author's Note:**

> hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn first time writing porn it's probably not that good;; but I really wanted to write something for these two and I couldn't quite muster up the creative energy to write another 10,000 words;;;;;; so I wrote porn;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
> 
> ps Tundra's a gay af Rus and you can't convince me otherwise.

Tundra was gaping.

Underneath his mask, belayed by his saucer-wide eyes, Tundra was gaping.

“Do you find me… adequate?” Torch shifted uncomfortably where he sat on the bed, but his erection didn’t wane. Simple, yet utterly beautiful in a way Tundra felt lost for words over, the shaft curved upwards thickly in the same shade of creamy grey his body suit was pigmented. A broad ridge ran up the bottom of its length, ending sharply at the fiery red glans.

Thick — three of his fingers side by side at its widest — and slightly longer than his face: his memory core began rewriting his untold fantasies as it filled in the blank slate that used to be his bed partners with a familiar crimson and beige robot master.

Adequate? _Curses_, Tundra thought.

He might be in love.

“факел, darling, you’re _perfect_.” He breathed. Their eyes met again, locking into the intimate action.

His mask slid away, revealing plush sapphire lips as he surged forward to press them against the red of Torch’s face: over his mouth. In response, the plating slid back to reveal hazelnut-tanned artificial skin and alluring rose lips. Torch utilised the purple robot’s second of surprise to return the kiss with fervour — one hand delicately caressing the back of their helmet and the other grasping his gloved hand, twining their digits. The once candle-like embers at his pauldrons licked into a healthier blaze.

Tundra’s unoccupied fist tensed and relaxed at his side until he placed it on the inside of the Tsubakuro robot’s thighs, pawing the soft silicon softly. The torch-jutsuka shuddered softly, and, very much enjoying the reaction, Tundra rose the hand to curl around the still rock-hard cock.

Torch moaned long and low and _delicious_ into his mouth, his hands gripping tighter where they were nestled in Tundra’s interlocking digits and sprawled across the back of his helmet. The ice skater took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into the other’s mouth. It swept slick and languid against Torch’s, coaxing him into following suit as the flames on his pauldrons flared up dramatically.

The Cossack robot pumped his fist against Torch’s arousal, rubbing against the top of the ridge with his thumb as he reached the apex, then squeezing undulatingly as he went down towards the base again. He repeated the process when the crimson robot moaned, then again when he grunted audibly into his mouth. He set up a slow, gliding rhythm that left Torch throbbing under his pearlescent glove.

His fingers couldn’t quite reach around the shaft, he marvelled.

Tundra basked unabashedly in the soft sighs and quiet huffs Torch let out.

He let his hand slowly lose traction until it was barely hovering over the twitching, burning member. He smiled slyly as he gently pulled away from the kiss.

“Tundra?” The torch-justuka whined. It took all of his self-mastery to attempt not to pout, but that meant none left as he thrusted needily into the enclosed fist, seeking relief. He found none as the gloved hand followed the motion, offering no traction.

“Patience, дорогой. I don’t plan on stopping.” The ice skater purred, leaning in for a quick peck when the crimson master shuddered before pulling back again.

He let his hand fall away, burying his smile in Torch’s abdomen as the firestarter whined at the loss of stimulation. Kissing the surface in apology, he lowered himself further until he was on his knees at the foot of the bed and face-to-cock with Torch’s towering shaft.

He nuzzled it with his cheek, making sure to keep the sharpest of his plating well away from the throbbing member. He kissed its base, licking a stripe up the ridge when it twitched in interest. Torch’s hand fisted into a ball at his side, and his face twisted into an expression of restraint.

_He’s beautiful_, Tundra thought. Internally, he added it to the growing list of things he loved about Torch Man. Silently, he snapped a picture and added that, too.

He clicked his tongue against the synthetic skin, tutting teasingly. “No, no, no — sweetheart, don’t hold yourself back.” He reached out and grabbed the thoroughly tense fist Torch was holding the bedsheets in, massaging it until it loosened with curiosity then holding it in his own. Pressing it against his cheek, he nuzzled against it soothingly, placing a kiss against the centre of its palm.

“I trust you, love.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself, opting instead to manoeuvre the appendage onto his helmet.

The torch-jutsuka frowned briefly in confusion, but an expression of dawning realisation lit up his face as he gave an experimental tug. Tundra followed the motion, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the underside of Torch’s massive cock. The grip tightened momentarily before relaxing again.

Understanding that perhaps the learning curve he had set out had been a slight bit too steep, Tundra took the initiative. He licked long and thick against the member’s ridge, reaching the tip and swirling his tongue over the slit as he lapped up the droplet of pre-cum that had formed. It tasted crisp, and the liquid burned hot against his tongue. The sample had been too small for Tundra’s liking — he wanted more.

Torch groaned a low, shuddering thing that rumbled through Tundra’s core like an explosion. The hand on his helmet caressed him delicately, resting lightly on the cool metal before coaxing him onto the shaft.

Purring at the confidence, he let the Tsubakuro robot take control as he was pushed down the length, rising only once Torch deemed it fit. His tongue dragged behind his mouth as the combination slathered saliva onto the already leaking cock.

The hand pressed again, and he hummed tunelessly around the member on the way down. He felt the grip on his helmet tighten minutely, and that was all the warning he got before he was being shoved down the girthy organ. Its tip bumped roughly against his throat and he could feel the artificial muscles freeze under his glove as he pulled off, gasping.

The weight on his helmet disappeared as Torch’s arm fell to the side in horror, the other reaching up quickly before halting as Tundra muffled coughs into a cupped hand. The warmth in the room chilled as previously roaring blazes fell into trepid embers.

“Tundra! Did I- are you…?”

The ice skater looked up, smiling softly as he saw the paralyzing panic in the other’s eyes.

_He’s afraid he hurt me_.

And somehow, the realisation made Tundra’s coughing recede.

His shimmering lips met Torch’s startled ones, and when the moment of tense motionlessness passed, they melted into one another.

He pulled back, “нет, darling. I love it when you let go.”

The hovering hand had moved to the small of his back, rubbing circles into the metal.

“Alright. Like this…?” The weight on his helmet returned, tentatively. It was gentle as it pushed him back down. Torch’s arousal resurged, twitching against his nose as he kissed it.

“Ready?”

“Always.”

His lips descended on the glimmering wet cock, moaning quietly as it filled his mouth. Halfway down, it bumped harshly against his throat. The ice skater fought not to gag as Torch groaned loudly, pushing him further — but he could only choke slightly as the weeping member pressed harder against the tight passage. Taking a brief moment to right himself, he relaxed his throat, lowered his voice box, tipped his head back slightly, and _pushed_.

It was a squeeze, and he could feel the cock throbbing in his throat as he impaled himself on the shaft. His tongue was squeezed uncomfortably between the floor of his cavern and the member in his mouth, so he stuck it out to lick obscenely at the underside of the shimmering cock he drank from. A spurt of pre-cum slid down his throat and he swallowed around the unyielding arousal. In response, a second hand landed on his helmet. Torch’s member slid out of his mouth slightly — the head rested heavily against his tongue — and before Tundra could chase it, he was being shoved down the length by the strength of a bulldozer.

The cock slipped past his abused lips, past his squeezing throat — and when he felt there was no more length left to devour, a juddering thrust buried the shaft even deeper. A batch of pre-cum slid down his throat, quickly followed by a second and a third after that as the ice skater raced to swallow and slurp up the overflowing liquid.

Torch was panting now, groaning out appreciative compliments between huffs and puffs. The flames on his shoulder licked at the metal ceiling, and the temperature in the room skyrocketed. Tundra was melting, but _if this is how I die_, he thought, _maybe dying is better than it’s made out to be_. Yet the hands kept the pressure on his helmet fierce, and still there was more. Despite his protesting throat, the Cossack robot allowed himself to be pushed further down the leaking cock until _finally_, with tears of effort pricking at the corners of his eyes, his nose brushed against the creamy grey silicon of Torch’s abdomen.

The forceful hands on his helmet turned gentle, brushing softly against his bulging cheeks. “Good job, Tundra. You’ve done so well.” And _Oh goodness I didn’t know I had a praise kink,_ but _damn you sweetheart, you’ve just given me one_. Torch leaned back on the bed, laying down fully whilst keeping both hands in place. Tundra allowed himself to relax into the position — windpipe blocked and mouth obstructed — with a proud and satisfied sigh.

A roll of the synthetically-skinned hips below him asked for readiness.

He’d respond verbally, but he couldn’t. He tried to nod, but he ended up almost gagging in the process. In the end, he settled for two hums after one another that sounded vaguely like an “uh-huh”. And with that, the show was on.

The cock in his mouth receded, slipping out of his throat and nearly entirely out of his mouth as it balanced between Torch’s crotch and Tundra’s lips, resting there for a moment before the grip on his helmet tightened in warning. Tundra relaxed his throat just in time.

The shaft skewered him on the downstroke, sliding back to its precarious starting position on the upstroke. Leaving barely a moment of respite, the hands forced him down again. His jaw ached and his eyes stung fiercely, but Tundra couldn’t help the moan of pleasure as he was pressed into Torch’s crotch again. The torch-jutsuka held him there for a long second; face flat with the cream surface until he loosened his fists to let him glide back up.

When Tundra reached the tip of the member on his way up, he took the spare instant to slide his tongue over the head before he was plunged back down. If the loud groan that emanated from Torch’s panting mouth was any indication, the action hadn’t gone unnoticed.

A spurt of pre-cum hit his throat.

“Tundra, hnng-“

The hips below him thrusted upwards, burying the cock into his mouth again.

More pre-cum, pouring steadily from the tip as it battered into his throat at a break-neck pace.

“Tun, hoy! Tundra!”

He hummed an inquiring sound around the erection on his tongue.

“I’m gonna, gonna-“

The clear liquid built up in his windpipe, each forceful thrust into his gaping throat was met with an obscene slap.

“TUNDRA!”

The hands on his head pulled him down as the hips under his gloves thrust up. Torch’s arms tensed visibly, locking his head into place as the tip breached his cavern one last time. The shaft twitched once, twice, pulsed-

A tidal wave of cum splattered into his throat, rope after rope of the white liquid shooting down the tube before splashing against his tank cover. A torrent of cum — both pre and not — filled his mouth to the bursting point as his cheeks bulged further and the throbbing cock was _still pulsing_-

He coughed the slimy substance out around the arousal in his face, gagging and choking on the white liquid — until-

The hands pulled his head off the twitching member. Tundra felt palpably relieved, only to realise Torch hadn’t quite finished. A rope shot out onto his face, splattering against his nose and gems. Another marked his cheek with white. The last landed in his overflowing mouth, adding to the pool of cum he desperately tried not to choke on as he manually opened his tank valve, allowing the synthetic semen to drain away into his reserves. He’d have to remember to syphon out the liquid later — he didn’t want to be running on Torch’s arousal, no matter how hot the concept sounded.

Drops of white streamed down his chin through the corners of his mouth, but he paid them no heed as he panted desperately for relief. He rested his head against the Tsubakuro robot’s soaking crotch, licking languidly and lazily at the _still massive _half-mast length.

“Was that good for you, Пожар?”

The torch-justuka looked down at him incredulously.

“I don’t-“

He blushed slightly.

“I don’t think that was anything short of amazing, Tundra.”

The Cossack-built robot paused, flustered.

He smiled.

“No. I don't, either.”

**Author's Note:**

> One day, I will create something longer for these two. I have an idea for a coffee shop AU that keeps offering me small crumbs of creativity...
> 
> And yeah that means that the second work in this relationship tag will already be spitting in canon's poor, abused face,


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